


They're the Ones Make You Trust in the Universe

by stardustedknuckles



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Resurrection Ritual, Temporary Character Death, The angst is light, less about death and more about relationships, liberal and vague magic usage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28091673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustedknuckles/pseuds/stardustedknuckles
Summary: Beau's dead but not gone, and there's someone waiting to talk to her.Written long before Lucien was mentioned again, set loosely after the events of Traveler Con.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Mollymauk Tealeaf, Beauregard Lionett & The Mighty Nein, Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 13
Kudos: 172





	They're the Ones Make You Trust in the Universe

**Author's Note:**

> Don't try too hard to make sense of the implications of what happened. This has been in drafts long enough (August) that I fussed a few times with where to set it and it might still show in a few places. I wasn't going to publish it since Lucien is a thing, but actually it's fine.
> 
> I didn't know about godly domains and the raven imagery slaps so I'm keeping it.

Beau’s eyes opened slowly. Above her was blue sky, and small purple flowers danced in her periphery as a cool breeze washed over her from head to foot. She lay still, tracing the slow movement of the puffy clouds and trying to remember the last time she had felt this good, this content. Nothing hurt, she couldn't think of anything that needed doing…she could just lie here a while and breathe.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Beau startled and sat straight up, suddenly cold all over. That voice… “Molly?” She twisted around behind her and sucked in a breath, eyes wide. Leering at her upside down from a lazy, stretched-out position and chaining purple flowers in his fingers was a heartbreakingly familiar face. “Oh gods.”

He wagged a finger, then reached up behind his head to boop her nose with it. “You really think godhood is for me?”

She tried for a clever response, but her thoughts were a jumble of blood and grief and tarot cards. “I…no?”

“Good girl.” He patted the ground next to him. “You should lie down over here, take a load off for a minute. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

She obeyed dumbly, crawling until she was next to him and leaning back on her elbows, and then lying down again completely, still stunned. The springy grass and flowers rose to meet her back; as she focused on his hands, she realized the flowers were the same color as his skin.

“How is everyone?” He turned to face her, and it was the mixture of hope and sorrow and curiosity on his face that finally broke through Beau’s stupor.

“They’re…good,” she said. Talking about everyone else was easy, and she was grateful for the chance to come at this sideways. “Nott turned out to be a halfling stuck in a goblin’s body, but we fixed that.” Molly’s eyebrows raised in interest and impressed acknowledgment. “Fjord was faking his accent and now he follows the Wildmother, and believe it or not those are unrelated developments.”

Molly grunted in satisfaction. “Called it. I knew that voice was an act.”

“Of fucking course you did.” He winked at her. “Speaking of fakes,” Beau continued. “Jester’s god turned out to be a bored unemployed archfey dude, so we’re all still kind of dealing with that one.”

“Unless things have very much changed, I have to say that really sounds like her exact brand of chaos,” Molly observed.

“I guess,” beau said. “but if he’s not a god and she’s still able to do all her cool shit, then what does he have to do with any of it? Like the guy is basically a con artist with perks.”

Molly thought for a moment. “I’m glad,” he said. “I don’t think gods have friends, do you?”

Beau frowned. “I don’t guess they need them.”

“One of the many reasons I’m not cut out for it,” Molly replied. “And Jester liked the Traveler long before powers were part of the deal, if I remember right.”

“Yeah. I’m kind of thinking maybe he only has powers _because_ she liked him so much.”

“Oh I like that train of thought very much.” Molly finished linking the flowers together and motioned for Beau to sit up a little. He settled the crown on her head and smiled. “Perfect.”

Sadness welled up in Beau, crystallizing into anger to keep from overspilling. Beau swallowed it with difficulty, blinking rapidly and looking back up at the clouds. The crown of flowers was cool against her forehead, and she closed her eyes and breathed in the sweet scent around her for a moment.

“And the others?”

Beau huffed a semblance of a laugh and cracked one eye to look at him. “Are you asking about Yasha or Caleb?” she teased.

He didn’t smile back, staring straight up. “Both,” he said quietly. There was a sudden deliberance to his relaxed posture, and Beau could read the yearning in every one of his tense muscles.

“Sorry,” she murmured. He turned hopeful eyes to her. "Caleb's doing a lot better. Some fucked up shit happened to him for a long time, and I think he's finally seeing that it's good, you know, to have a bunch of people around who will kick someone's ass for you without needing much of a reason why."

"Sounds like you."

Beau flushed. "Shut up. Anyway, Yasha was taken over by the same guy that fucked up her memories before she met you. Some fucker called Obann. Mind controlled her, made her kill a bunch of people, try to kill us. Worked for the Chained Oblivion, no idea if you know about him.”

“I think I know all I need to, if that’s the case.” There was a quiet anger behind his words, something Beau wasn’t used to hearing from him. In fact all of him seemed more present than Beau was used to, and while part of her reasoned that it was likely she was dreaming all of this…it just didn't feel right. She supposed if she'd been in a field of flowers with nothing to do but think, she'd settle a bit too.

But it was kind of odd to see Molly without his usual capriciousness. That part of him had been cut away, because apparently a casual regard for life had a funny way of changing when death got involved. Would she fade here too? Would that be a bad thing?

Focus, Beau. "Her wings!" she blurted. Molly tilted his head with interest. "She has wings now, like real ones with feathers. They're white and huge and amazing." She relaxed as her words carried her away from existential dread towards brighter things, and if a part of her spoke up to remind her she might not have those again either, she shoved it viciously down.

A slow smile spread across Molly's face. "That sounds pretty incredible. You've been good for her."

Beau shrugged. "She's one of us. She's been good for us too."

Molly looked sideways at her but didn't comment. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his knees and his tail around his bare feet. "Is she free now?" There was a delicate quality to his voice, a glimpse of that specific side of him that had only come out for Yasha and Caleb in the short time Beau had known him.

She thought of Yasha before, the way she followed the group because Molly had liked them and there was nowhere else to go. The way she was always leaving, never making promises. She thought of Yasha's hand over the split in her chest, the sorrow in her eyes as she poured in what healing she could. The Stone Coffin fight, the meaningful glance with Caleb.

But then she thought of Yasha's quiet comfort in Kamordah, the way she had rejected the idea of Beau giving herself up. The way her smiles came easier, her calloused and scarred fingers on harp strings and carrying her. "I think she's freer than she's ever been," she said softly.

"That's good," said Molly. "But I meant literally. The mind control?"

"Right! Yes, we fixed that," Beau said quickly. “I should have led with that. She’s fine now. The Storm Lord saved her, that first time. The second time, it was us. Well, Caduceus is who dispelled the hold, but we had all gone to find her.”

Molly blinked. “Caduceus?”

“Oh,” said Beau. “Right. He’s a friend. We uh…picked him up. After…” She could feel him turned to look at her. He was practically radiating a shit-eating grin.

“Beauregard, are you trying to spare my feelings about being dead?” Beau glared at him. He laughed hard. “You are! I can’t believe it. Things really have changed.” Beau rolled her eyes while he finished giggling at his own leisure. He stretched and sighed amicably. “So you found a new kid after I beefed it, that’s good.”

Beau jabbed him. “Yeah like an hour after.”

Molly pulled a fake wounded face, and it was Beau’s turn to snort a laugh. “He’s a grave cleric,” she said. “A firbolg.” She snickered. “He’s got pink hair. It’s actually really cool.”

“Go back to the grave cleric thing,” Molly said. “Did you guys go hunting for someone to bring me back?”

Beau shifted a little. “I mean it was worth a shot.”

He snorted, not unkindly. “Typical.” They rested in silence for a minute, listening to the breeze rustle the meadow around them. Molly’s eyes slid over to Beau.

“What?” She challenged with mock aggression.

“Just curious what else is new with you,” Molly said. “No offense, but I don’t think I’d be here if you wanted to be awake.” Beau scowled and searched his face for pity. There was none, because it was Molly, so she scowled harder.

“We almost lost Fjord to Uku’toa, but-“ she broke off. "Did he come through here? Did you see him like this?"

Molly shrugged. "Hard to tell. Consciousness is weird and time is nothing. You got him back though?"

She didn't miss that he was letting her duck the question, and she felt oddly grateful for the space. Still, she hesitated on the reply. Was it insensitive to bring up that they now had the power to reverse death?

Molly’s lips curled knowingly as he watched her face. “You’re not going to hurt my feelings,” he said. “For all you know, I’m not even real.”

Beau didn't mention that she'd been thinking about it. That train of thought seemed…like it wasn't the point, somehow. "Yeah," she said. "We got him back." Silence stretched between them for a long moment, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Beau looked over Molly, absorbing every detail.

She raised an uncertain hand and laid it on his cheek, and his eyes closed halfway as he leaned in. “You feel real,” she said quietly. A side of her mouth quirked reflexively. “You’d be a much bigger asshole if I were making you up.”

Molly laughed outright and laid a hand over the one on his cheek, squeezing gently before taking it in his and interlacing their fingers. He rested them together on his chest – exposed under an unlaced shirt collar – and sighed, closing his eyes.

Beau watched him for a long and unguarded moment. "Are you always here?" she asked finally.

Molly's head tilted towards her, but his eyes didn't open. "Conscious, you mean?"

Beau shifted uncomfortably. "I guess. Whatever this is." His chest felt warm under her hand. She might be imagining it, but she thought she might even feel a faint pulse against the back of her hand.

"Time is odd here," Molly replied finally. "I can tell about how much has passed on your plane, but only when it's clear like this. The rest of the time…I don't know if I exist."

Beau took a deep and steadying breath. Another.

"Is it peaceful?" 

Molly's eyes opened.

Beau met them and didn't try to hide whatever might be showing on her face. "Oh, Beau." Molly's voice was gentle. He tugged her arm slowly, giving her the option to tell him to fuck off. Beau tensed, but let herself be pulled into a full-body hug. Molly smelled like cloves and old, dusty attics in the sun. She fisted her free hand into the linen of his shirt and buried her face in his shoulder.

* * *

"I'm scared, Caleb." Jester's whisper was so faint that Caleb nearly missed it, even with Jester pressed close against him as she was.

He settled a hand between her horns and rubbed soothingly. "Ja, it is okay to be scared," he said. "But Caduceus knows the back door to these kinds of things. He will help her."

Jester sniffed against his chest, her fists holding on to his tunic. "What if she doesn't want to come back to us?"

The thought had also occurred to him, but where he had failed to chase the fear from the back of his own mind, her could not stand to have it in Jester's too. He squeezed the arm around her back close to him and spoke more confidently than he felt. "She would not hurt us on purpose that way."

Jester hiccupped. "But she doesn't think it would hurt us if she left," she cried. "I tried to tell her after the witch, but I don't think I convinced her and now she might decide to stay over there, and--"

"Jester," Caleb said gently. "The Beauregard that went into the witch's hut was not the Beauregard we know. She was still so fresh from seeing her father. She was not thinking, yes?"

Jester's tail flipped uncertainly. "I know, but we didn't get to talk after it, really," she said. "With the thing with Essek and then Vokodo and Traveler Con…"

"Hey." Caleb jostled her just a little, and she turned streaming eyes up to his face. "You really think she's going to throw away her chance for another flight with Yasha?" It was one of his darker attempts at humor, a sort he generally kept locked in a box for Jester. He wanted to tell her he was confident that Beau had not thought any more about what had happened, that she would understand how much it would hurt them to lose her. But the truth was that he didn't know what to say that would not only serve to echo Jester's fears. And besides, it was a good point.

Jester tried for a watery smile and burrowed closer again. "I know I would want to do it again if I were her," she said.

"Hold onto that," Caleb said quietly, though whether more to Jester or himself he was uncertain. He rubbed slow circles on Jester's back in quiet contemplation for a few moments.

Jester sniffed and sat up. "We should go check on Yasha," she said.

"I am right behind you."

* * *

She'd never tell him, but Beau could have stayed hugging Molly for a long, long time. His chest rumbled when he spoke again. "I don't know if it's what you need to hear right now, but I wouldn't change what fate chose for me. Peaceful isn't the right word, but I know that much." He took a deep breath, and Beau marveled at the memory of lungs and a heartbeat and life under her ear.

"Would you go back though?" Beau whispered. "If you had the option?"

Molly sighed, thinking. "I think I'm okay with how things shook out. I worked hard for that to be the case, you know?" Beau nodded. "But if someone had offered me the sun and a familiar group of assholes and another chance to keep being Molly, back when it all happened…"

Beau sniffed and coughed a laugh into his collarbone. "You just miss alcohol, don't bullshit me."

"Oh yes," he agreed amicably. "Drugs too. Shame you don't have any on you." She felt him shift, then he paused and made a curious noise in his throat. His fingers rested lightly on the back of Beau's neck. "This looks familiar."

Beau pulled away and wiped a hand across her eyes. "Fuck you," she muttered at the grin on Molly's face. "You got a monopoly on eye tattoos?"

His tail swished with delight in the grass. He put his chin in his hand and beamed at her. "I had no idea you cared so much. You should have said something."

"I didn't even like you," Beau protested. Molly raised an eyebrow. Beau scowled and looked away. "I didn't really get the chance," she said softly.

"Hmm," Molly conceded. "True, but to be fair I was making you work for it a little. It's good for you."

Beau ripped up a handful of grass and threw it at his knee. "I wish I could've," she admitted. They watched the breeze gently push the slivers of green across his knee to vanish back on the ground. "We wonder, you know," Beau said. "What you'd be like now."

For the first time, Molly looked actually wistful. "If I'd have been anything like you guys, then maybe I did miss out."

"Maybe," Beau agreed. "And it's like…I don't even think they're done. Kinda seems like everyone's just getting started."

"How do you mean?"

She waved a hand. "Fjord with his new religion, Nott's new body - Her name is Veth, actually, she has a kid and a husband - Yasha finally free of Obann, Caleb….managing? Like who saw any of that coming?"

Molly sounded like he'd come to a conclusion. "And you're scared because you can't see your own path." Beau glared at him. He looked unimpressed. "There's no point arguing," he added. "Look around. This isn't death. You might not be breathing, but you haven't called it quits. If you were happy with how things ended, I wouldn't be here."

"There's nowhere else for me to go, man!" Beau threw out an arm. "I went from a shit-kicking kid in a backwater town to a fucking expositor. I basically helped kill a god. I had a new family that cared for me and made my time there pretty fucking great."

Molly squinted at her. "I'm sorry, what part of that was supposed to be the end?"

Beau growled in frustration. "Don't you get it? That's as good as it gets! Everything from there is downhill. Something will go wrong." She lowered her head and spoke more quietly. "I'll lose them, somehow, and I won't know what to do with myself."

"And what about what they want?" Beau didn't answer. "Something _did_ go wrong for them, Beau. Right now, you're _gone._ You think they'd be happy to just let that happen?"

Her head shook jerkily. "Not happy," she said. "Just better off."

"Bullshit."

She glared at him again. "You don't know," she said. "Caleb's the most powerful magic user and smartest person I've ever met. Jester's probably a god. Fjord and Caduceus are going to legitimately save the world with the power of vegetables, I swear. Nott's gotta go back to her family at some point anyway. And Yasha likes finding her own way. They don't need me. It's just logical to quit while I'm ahead. They'll figure it out."

"Double bullshit." Now Molly sounded aggravated. It was enough to take Beau out of her spiraling thoughts for a moment. "Let's leave aside for a moment that Yasha, as my best friend and the one I know the most about, has lost two people already," he said. "Okay? Just set that neat little fact to the side for a minute."

She knew he was guilting her, but it still worked. She dropped her eyes.

"You can use logic to justify anything," he said, gentler now. "It's worthless. It doesn't provide conclusions, it just backs up what you already think. And you think you're expendable."

Beau drew her knees in tight. "It's true though."

"Everyone is objectively expendable, Beau."

She snorted. "Didn't figure you for nihilism."

"Then you weren't paying attention." Beau blinked at him. He leaned forward, his face more serious than Beau had ever seen it in life. "Nobody and nothing has inherent worth. Everything is objectively pointless."

She searched his face in confusion, trying to ascertain what he was actually saying. Of course everything wasn't pointless. She might be a pessimist, but she wasn't a defeatist. The things people did mattered. Some changed the world, some changed just a few lives. It didn't matter the scale…ah. A light came on behind Beau's eyes. "Objectively," she repeated slowly. "But there is no objectively."

Molly smiled. "You don't get a say in what other people think you're worth. Just whether or not you care." He stared at the ground. "Those people think the world of you, Beau. My two cents in all of this? You should care what they think. Not everyone, just them."

Beau took a deep breath. "I care," she said. "I care. Just. It would be easier, you know? If there was a scale for this stuff. So I'd know what to work for."

"I have confidence that you will grow out of that," Molly said drily. He looked over her shoulder and smiled, shoulders relaxing. "But how's a bunch of gold as a starting point?"

Beau twisted around, her heart in her throat. A few yards away, a neat hole had appeared in the sand. Its edges crackled with dark purple energy, but it seemed to beckon. It was a color not unlike storm clouds.

Molly stood up and offered his hand. "Come on," said. "I'll walk you to the gate."

Beau grasped it gratefully and didn't let go as they approached. The view was disorienting for a moment - a top-down angle like she was a bird on a tree branch.

Caduceus's voice faded in, little by little. The clearer she could hear him, the sharper the image became.

"I take it that's the new friend," Molly said. At Beau's nod, he squinted a little. "Nice hair," he said.

"He drinks tea made out of dead people," Beau said. "You two would get along great."

"Hope he made some of me."

"You tasted like an asshole. Now shush."

They knelt together for a closer look. Beau leaned in close. "Is that….?"

"Your body, in Yasha's lap? Why yes I do believe so," Molly said. He had clearly intended to rib Beau, but he voice cracked on the "yes" and shook through the rest. Beau squeezed his hand and didn't comment. "She looks good," Molly said wistfully. "Not right now, of course, but in general. Are those flowers in her hair?"

Beau smiled. "Yeah. She does that now. We all take turns bringing different ones to her."

"That's lovely," he murmured. "Thank you all for taking care of her."

"Of course," Beau said absently. "That's what we do." Molly smiled at her.

Yasha's hands rested on either side of Beau's head, her thumbs stroking Beau's cheeks in a slow, soothing rhythm. Beau took a deep breath and reluctantly moved her eyes from Yasha to her body. Her confusion cleared as she realized what she was looking at. She didn't recognize her own face when it was drawn and sunken like that, and her hair on either side of her undercut almost covered her ears. A memory surged up - the feeling of being pulled from time itself, tumbling end over end from warmth into snow.

Molly squeezed her hand. "Focus," he said firmly.

She nodded a thanks and continued watching. Jester sat near Beau's hip, holding her hand. Her eyes were ringed with the kind of purple color that indicated she had recently spent a lot of time crying. Across from her, Caleb sat quietly with his hands in his lap and his knees touching Beau's hip. He reached out to gently rub a smudge from the outside of one of the holes in her abdomen, and it was then that she noticed that in spite of the awful wounds that wrapped around her torso, she was clean. Outside the circle, Veth was in Fjord's lap, anxiously watching.

"She's who Nott turned into?" Molly asked.

"Yeah," said Beau. "Veth Brenatto."

"Veth seems to get along better with Fjord than Nott did."

"Depends on the day."

She lurched suddenly sideways and fell as Caduceus spoke a final arcane word and opened his eyes. Beau pushed herself back up on hands and knees and nodded to Molly in reassurance. She froze. The figure beside her was still undeniably her friend, but black feathers sprouted from all over his body, even his horns.

He caught Beau's expression and looked down at himself. "Well, I guess that makes sense," he said mildly. "She must be nearby."

Beau opened her mouth to reply, but a voice from below snagged both their attention. "Now?" The voice belonged to Caleb, and as he looked up at Caduceus they could see every detail of his face.

"He looks so much more alive," said Molly. He sounded proud, almost. "Cleaner, too."

At Caduceus's nod, Caleb took a deep breath and turned back to face Beau. Her body, anyway. Gods that was weird. "I don't know where you are," he began. His words resonated somewhere inside of Beau, like they bypassed her ears entirely and grasped for something at the center of her instead. "And we are both very bad at saying the right things at the right times. So I will keep it simple. If you can hear me, and you are able, please come back to us. We are not ready to lose you." He swallowed. "I am not ready." He paused for a moment, and then nodded. "Ja," he said. "That is all."

He looked to Jester, who nodded and began to speak in a rough voice Beau had heard very recently in their discussion about the Traveler. "Beau?" she said. "Beau if you can hear me, I'm so sorry I couldn't get to you in time. I really tried, but the spell you were trapped in had you for weeks even though it was just a few minutes for us, and-" she sniffed hard. "I know you tried to leave us once because you thought we'd be okay without you. We can't, Beau. Please come back."

"Jes," Beau whispered softly. She reached out a hand and pressed it against the image; it yielded but held firm.

"I think it will open at the end," the thing that was more bird than Molly said. "You'll have to be fast."

Beau flinched at the sensation of warmth that began to creep into her hand and her face. Her leg felt oddly off-balance, and she realized as she watched Yasha's thumb move in time with the sensation on her cheek that she was feeling her friends touching her skin.

When it was Yasha's turn to speak, she didn't move for a long moment. Her thumbs stilled on either side of Beau's lips, and then she leaned forward and gently pressed hers to them. "Please," she whispered as Beau brought a shadowy hand to her face in wonder. "Not you too."

Light erupted from under Beau; she had not noticed Molly and her surroundings fading as they watched. She blinked fast, but there was only shapeless darkness where Molly had been kneeling. "Thank you," she yelled over the growing rumble of the ground shaking beneath her. Something behind her gave a loud, distant caw, and then gusts of wind beat at her shoulders like wings and she fell forward into the light.

* * *

As the symbols on the floor faded into nothing, Yasha's breathing stopped completely. A terrible moment of stillness passed, and another. If Beau didn't come back, would it mean she had chosen to stay or had something stopped her? She would never know. It would haunt her until the end. Her thumbs sought comfort in the short softness of Beau's undercut, but her time under the effects of the spell had resulted in it having grown longer than they were used to in spite of the relative quickness in their own timeline. From Yasha's perspective, she had helped her shave it not more than four days ago.

_Please._

Everyone in the room jumped when Beau's chest heaved suddenly with a horrible rattling sound. She convulsed in a kind of cough, and Yasha's stomach twisted as she heard air wheezing out from one of the holes in her ribs in the moment before her healing magic and Jester's chased away the sound and knit flesh together deep within. Caduceus laid a furry hand on her knee and supplemented with his own spell, looking exhausted but relieved.

"Open your eyes, Beau," Yasha whispered. "We've got you."

Beau's head lolled gently in her lap, and then her eyelids fluttered with a groan and finally - finally - opened.

She struggled to focus, twitching feebly in what looked like an attempt to sit up. Yasha shushed her gently and held her still, her own vision blurring as she allowed relief to wash over her.

She smiled weakly at Beau when her eyes finally found purchase on Yasha's face. "Hey, Beau," she managed in a poor imitation of Beau's usual greeting.

Beau's mouth worked its way into a painful grin. "Ow," she said.

"No shit!" Veth's voice was shrill from the vague direction of Beau's feet. "Ow is what you get when you break off from the group and run into a trap! You're lucky we have all those new diamonds!"

"She means we're glad to see you," Fjord said helpfully.

"That's what I said!"

Beau coughed a weak chuckle and groaned, and her eyes focused on Caleb and Jester on either side of her for the first time. _He looks so much more alive._ The familiar words echoed in her head, but she couldn't place where they came from. "You look worried about me or something," she rasped.

"Ja, we were," Caleb said simply. Beau blinked between his simple admission and Jester's unusually still posture.

"That bad?" She asked.

"Yes," said Caleb.

"No!" Jester said at the same time.

"Ah," Beau said tiredly. "Shouldn't have worried. Ducey knows what's up."

Caduceus unfolded to his feet, leaning on his staff with an expression both satisfied and weary. "I don't think the ritual itself worried them too much," he said. Beau had a strange kind of echo feeling, like his voice wasn't making it all the way into her ears. She gave a grunt, too tired to try for more words. "The ritual is just a door," he elaborated, understanding. "A beacon for you to return if you were willing and able."

"Seemed pretty obvious." It was out before Beau could think, and she frowned. "Dunno how I know that."

"I wouldn't think too hard about it," Caduceus said warmly. "The whole thing is different for everyone. Death is weird. Death having its boundaries wiggled…." he shrugged placidly. "You might have some weird dreams for a while."

Beau closed her eyes and relaxed further into Yasha's lap, her cheek leaning into one of the large hands still holding her. "Okay," she sighed, and then she was still again. Yasha felt her heart squeeze for a horrible moment, then the sight of Beau's chest rising and falling sent relief rushing through her. By the looks on Caleb and Jester's faces, she knew that a similar reflex had come and gone for them as well.

"I'm going to carry her upstairs to her room," she said quietly. "Jester, will you help me sit her up?" Jester scrabbled forward, eager to be doing something to help in some way, and between them they maneuvered Beau gently so that Yasha could hold her close and get to her feet.

Caleb blinked soberly up at them. Not very long ago, Yasha had been holding Beau in just the same way, teeth bared and eyes glowing as she snarled in helpless fury and desperation at their attackers.

This was not as terrible, he thought. Beau looked asleep now. She had not then. He tried to overwrite the memory, hoped it would not appear again in his dreams.

"I will bring up some water for the two of you," he said, guessing correctly that Yasha would stay while Beau slept.

"And fresh bandages," Jester piped up pragmatically. "Just in case."

Yasha barely heard them, but she nodded her thanks and left the room.

"Give her a few minutes' head start," Caduceus advised the two of them, but that she missed entirely.

Yasha didn't feel her knees try to give out until the door to Beau's room was in sight. She hurried and pressed her shoulder against it, breathing a silent thanks when it swung open immediately. She collapsed shaking onto the edge of Beau's bed, careful not to jar her. All she could do for a long moment was watch the marvel that was Beau breathing, her skin warm where it touched Yasha's. Alive, alive. She hadn't lost her. Beau had come back to them. Exhausted, Yasha pulled Beau close and wrapped secure arms around her, and only when she could feel Beau's warm breath on her neck did she permit the tears to fall.

When Caleb and Jester appeared with their excuses of rags and water, they found Beau and Yasha asleep atop the covers, one of Yasha's strong arm's thrown across Beau's middle and an ear pressed to her chest.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is not a typo haha, it's from "Strange" by LP
> 
> And honorable mention to "Daydream in Blue" from Taliesin's first Molly playlist. The image of Molly asleep in a field of flowers was what started all of this.


End file.
